Last breath
by charisma26
Summary: What if Haley wasn't the only one Foyet murdered on that fateful day? What if everyone's favourite boy genius also fell victim to one of the BAU's worst serial killers? - "But it was the thirteenth stab that proved fatal" – angst/please R&R!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds does not belong to me – hope y'all like this! :)

Spencer Reid was many things. A genius – check, a rambler – check, an awkward person – check, but he wasn't a bad person, or rather, he didn't _think _he was. He'd done some things that he had regretted over the years but he didn't think it warranted a death sentence.

Which was why, when he stared up into Foyet's manic eyes, he felt as though he had been cheated out of life. There was so much he needed to do, to accomplish, to see… things he needed to say to his mother and father - and now? Now he wouldn't get to and that scared him to the very core.

The blade sliced through another layer of skin slowly, making him groan and for satisfaction to gleam in Foyet's eyes. The knife dug deeper still, piercing the thin composition of fat and gliding through his muscle like butter.

"I bet this doesn't feel so good, ay boy genius?" Foyet grinned, twisting the knife, lips curling back over gleaming white teeth. Spencer screwed his eyes shut, a scream tearing its way through his throat but he held it in, with great effort, sweat breaking out on his forehead.

"I thought targeting Hotch's whore was good but my my my… this is even better – taking away the heart of the team, the innocent young man that everyone admires" Foyet spoke quietly, leaning down, his musty breath tickling Spencer's skin.

"How about another slice, just to add to the collection" Foyet mused, trailing the sharp edge up his torso and digging it into his chest, right below the shoulder. Spencer took a shuddering breath, willing the pain to go away. How many stab wounds was that now? Seven? Eight? He lost count, the pain overwhelming all his senses, and that was a difficult thing to do.

"You are a strong one, but I'll break you… don't worry" Foyet promised, showing Spencer the blade that was dripping a sticky wet substance… his blood, rolling off the knife like a waterfall.

"S-Stop" He croaked, trying to raise an arm as defence but he couldn't, his whole body raked with this blinding pain, worse than he had ever felt – his limbs were shaking because of the blood loss, he realised with a jolt, knowing he couldn't go on for much longer.

He wasn't strong like Hotch, or determined like Morgan or as willed as Rossi – he was just Reid, the brains of the team – he was gangly and weak and messed everything up, he couldn't hold on, or rather, his body couldn't – he was weak before all of this happened.

"Stop?" Foyet questioned, eyes flickering from his torso to his face, "No, no, no boy… it's only going to stop when _I _want it to, not a moment before, not a moment later" And Spencer let out a muffled sob, turning his head away. He just wanted the pain to go away, the awful bone crushing, fire spreading pain that was endless and ongoing.

"I can't wait to see Hotch's face when he finds you… first his wife then a member of the team, oh this… this is going to be memorable" He grinned, running a tousled hand through Spencer's long hair making him flinch – if he was going to die then he was going to die with at least _some _dignity intact and not let this _monster _take away his soul and being.

Again and again Foyet attacked him, ruthlessly and mercilessly, the whole time his gleeful face floated above Spencer, mocking him, turning his blood stone cold.

But yet he still held on, amazing even himself and no doubt Foyet whose face became more tense, his attacks less careful, clipping the odd organ and causing Spencer to cry out, his own salty tears making torrents down his cheeks.

Eleventh stab.

Twelfth stab.

But it was the thirteenth stab that proved fatal.

Spencer felt himself floating away, his mind and body shutting down, organs failing, breaths coming in short gasps.

This was it. He couldn't carry on any longer.

The thought seemed to comfort him – at least the pain would be gone.

But, when he thought that, a choked cry escaped his throat. What about his team? His family? The people he cared about the most? He would never see them again – hear Morgan teasing him, Rossi's wise words, see Hotch's rare smiles, or Garcia's outrageous outfits, he would never hug JJ again or open up to Prentiss.

All of that, gone, just because of one man.

Spencer's breaths slowed down, eyes fluttering shut as if on their own accord, but a few tears slid down his cheeks. He didn't w_ant _to go, he wanted to stay and continue being Spencer Reid, the geek boy that knew almost everything – why couldn't he?

Faced blurred together, memories fading away as Spencer stared above him for the last time, watching with clouded eyes as Foyet tilted his head like a curious child, eyes bright, a grin placed fully on his face.

"Time to sleep Dr Reid" He murmured and that was when Spencer took his last breath.

On a sunny day, people mulled about normally, doing their daily routines, not a care in the world as everyone's favourite boy genius lay cold and unmoving on a cobbled street; his usual bright, childlike eyes open wide with fear.

So…. Angsty yeah, ha! But I love Reid just thought I'd write this! Please let me know what you think – may even post another chapter of everyone's reaction! :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Criminal Minds does nay belong to me - as promised, another chapter! hope you like it! :)**

Aaron Hotchner felt hollow, numb, void, yet livid, all at the same time.

Blood still coated his clothes, the substance now dry and sticky, the metallic smell working its way up his nostrils.

This wasn't happening, it _couldn't _be happening despite his mind conjuring up those god awful memories.

Haley, beautiful, caring, loving Haley, lying dead in a pool of her own blood, gorgeous eyes lifeless and empty.

Why was this happening? Why? Why? _Why? _WHY?

He fisted his black hair in desperation, salty tears making their way down his cheeks. The anger consumed him, making his breathing short and uneven, limbs quaking, antipaction boiling in the pit of his stomach to rip that son of a bitch's head off. He was going to _kill _Foyet, make him feel his own pain, make him beg for his life.

"Hotch" Morgan said gently, frowning, a look of sadness plastered on his face. Hotch whipped around, eyes alight with fire that Morgan involuntarily took a step backwards.

"Have you found him?" He demanded in a hard voice and Morgan shook his head.

"No sir we haven't but..." He trailed off and Hotch eyed him up - Morgan was clearly nervous, adam apple bobbing up and down and his fists were clenched at his side - an obvious sign of anger, "We can't find Reid" He admitted and Hotch's blood ran cold. Oh go...oh god no.

* * *

Hotch took angry strides from the house, Haley's house, adrenaline fuelling him forward.

No - he already took Haley away from him he _wasn't _going to let him take away Reid - not going to happen.

"Sir, there's no trace of either of them" Prentiss stated, warm chocolate brown eyes full of worry.

"I want a five mile area scouted _now, _the bastard wouldn't have gone too far" Hotch barked, barging past his team, ignoring their gazes of worry and sympathy - he couldn't handle that right now, he _needed _to focus.

Hotch was so angry, so livid, so absolutely beyond reason, he left his team behind, eyes wild as he searched every alley way, every nook and cranny, every open building he could find - he needed to find Foyet so he could rip his damn head off, and... and Reid. Hotch shook his head, trying to will away those awful thoughts that kept plaguing his mind.

He knew Foyet, he knew what he was like, and he knew, _he knew, _if he had Reid then it was already too late - Foyet never lets a victim away, not unless he chose to spare them.

A sudden feminine scream of terror made Hotch's head snap to the right, eyes narrowing slightly.

He had heard enough screams over the years to know the difference.

It was a scream of pure and utter horror and despair.

Before his mind could catch up with him, Hotch was running, pushing scared pedestrians out the way, feet eatting up the sidewalk as he skidded into a nearby, cornered off alley, the cobbled stones digging into Hotch's feet.

A young woman was screaming and sobbing, hands covering her mouth as she stared down at... _something _lying on the ground.

Hotch let out a breath, hands shaking at his sides.

What could be so horrible and terrifying it required that amount of terror?

Of course he knew the answer, it was in the pit of his stomach but refused to believe it, he _had _to see for himself.

He stumbled forward, eyes prickling with tears as he fell to his knee's in despair.

Reid, good, whole, honest, innocent, wonderful Reid lay sprawled out on the hard ground, shirt torn open, multiple stab wounds littered his smooth torso, the bright red blood congealing around him. Reid's face, usually bright and childlike, was slack, blood sliding down his cheek, eyes empty and chestnut brown hair messier than usual.

Hotch let out a choked sob, looking down at his team mate.

It couldn't be real, it just couldn't, Reid survived _everything _that was thrown at him, surely his eyes were betraying him.

But they weren't - he knew that Reid... Reid was dead.

"Oh my god" Morgan muttered and Hotch turned his tear stained face toward his friend, his other colleagues not far behind him.

"No, no, no" JJ muttered, face crumpling like tissue paper, a hand holding her chest as if she were struggling to breath.

Rossi shook his head, running a tired, devastated, hand down his face, coffee coloured eyes full of grief.

Where as Prentiss practically fell forward, a look of complete shock on her face, cheeks wet with tears.

"No... Reid" She gasped, stifling a sob behind her hand.

Hotch felt her pain because it was his own - he knew the confusion, the shock, the sadness, the grief, the anger, the despair... he felt it all.

So, with a shaky hand Hotch reached forward and slid Spencer's eyes closed, not bearing to stare into those soulless eyes.

He couldn't do it.

But he knew whatever part of Spencer there was left, should know how much he was loved - by all of them.

Wiping his eyes, he sniffed, taking a firm hold of Spencer's limp hand in his own strong one, grasping at it like a lifeline.

"We'll get him Spencer, for you... we'll get him" He vowed before lowering his head in grief.

Hope y'all like it - please please review - means a lot - next chapter out tomorrow! :)


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Criminal minds not mine! thanks for all your support! :)

Hotch stood up on shaky legs, trying not to fall over.

Foyet would pay, that was for sure.

He wouldn't get away with what he had done - ruining people's lives like he was some kind of god. No way.

Hotch watched in pain as JJ collapsed next to Prentiss, her mascara clad face wet with tears.

"No, Spence" She sobbed, unable to control herself. Hotch felt like doing the same, just crawling into a foetal position, shutting himself off from the world but he couldn't. Haley and Spencer needed him to be strong. They needed him now more than ever.

Which was why Hotch, in a state of shock, wiped his bloodied hands down his already bloodied shirt, trying to remove the evidence.

Of course, it didn't remove the memories - they were still there. Fresh and un-nerving and bloodcurdling. They would never be gone.

Hotch pushed past Morgan who was standing there, still as a statue, bottom lips quivering as he stared at his best friend who was now gone, usual bubbly Spencer who wouldn't stop rambling. Hotch missed that rambling now.

Hotch took off down the street, eyes wild with fury, his senses on full alert. Once he got his hands on Foyet he would make sure that bastard would pay - he didn't care if it ruined or destroyed him because he knew, in the end, it would all be worth it.

* * *

Hotch's thoughts trailed to his son, his little Jack, as he was furiously pumping his feet down the sidewalk. His son was innocent in all this yet Foyet still made sure he was involved - that made his blood boil. He had targeted Reid as well, Reid who was so like a child himself - he didn't need to kill Reid, Reid hadn't done anything to him, he just did it to get back at Hotch - that he was sure of. Haley's and Reid's blood was on his hands, and his alone, and that was something Hotch would have to live with for the rest of his life.

Beautiful, inspiring, caring, kind, artistic Haley.

Smart, child-like, fun, wonderful Reid.

They were dead because of him - and that made Hotch want to be sick, to empty all the contents of his stomach onto the sidewalk.

Yet, he stayed upright, forcing himself on - that was what the bureau taught him. They taught him to be strong.

So that was what he did.

He had to get into Foyet's mind - imagine what he would do. Foyet would want to taunt him some more, make him feel more guilt, that he was sure of.

He would want to rub into Hotch's face how he had killed the love of his life and murdered his most valuable asset and friend.

Make him remember their deaths.

So where would he go?

Hotch slowed down, breathing heavily, forcing the tears away. Where would he go? _Where would he go? _WHERE?

A sudden thought occurred to him - a quiet spot, more like a sanctuary near a small, secluded lake. He and Haley had taken Jack there all the time over the years, it was their favourite spot, a place where they could be alone.

Hotch was sure Foyet would be there, waiting, a taunting smirk plastered on his face - like the final stab.

Hotch took off like a rocket, his anger brimming to the surface, having a one track mind: Kill Foyet.

* * *

It didn't take him long, or he assumed it didn't - he wasn't keeping track of time - he didn't have the time to.

He skidded into the clearing, wide eyes searching for the man that had ruined his life.

And there he was. Standing still, eyes gleaming, a smirk forming on his face.

"Agent Hotchner, long time no see" Foyet cackled and Hotch grabbed his gun, pointing it firmly at Foyet's forehead from thirty metres away.

"On no agent Hotchner - you won't pull that trigger... you want to kill me yourself, get back at me" Foyet said and Hotch pointed the gun downwards, firing it at Foyet's shoulder, causing him to fall to the ground.

"You bastard" Hotch raged, racing forward, grabbing Foyet by the front of his jumper and slamming him against a near by tree.

"That felt good, didn't it?" Foyet taunted, blood running down his chin, "After all, I did kill your whore and that wimp of an agent" And before Hotch knew what he was doing, the anger over took all of him. His fist slammed into Foyet's cheek multiple times, anything just to stop that bastard laughing.

"Come on agent... you can do better than that"

And Hotch did. Just on principle.

He grabbed Foyet's head, banging it against the tree, kneeing him in the ribs and slamming him to the ground.

He didn't care.

He didn't care about anything other than killing him.

That was all that mattered.

When Foyet landed on the ground Hotch kicked and kicked his torso, surely causing internal bleeding.

But he didn't care.

He didn't care about anything other than killing him.

That was all that mattered.

Hotch fell to the ground after him, grabbing him around the neck, choking the life out of him.

But he didn't care.

He didn't care about anything other than killing him.

That was all that mattered.

Then, a sudden shot rang out through the clearing.

A couple more chapters to come! hope you liked and please review = fast chapter! :)


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